Flower Garden Girl
by Number1PixarFan
Summary: When homeless Minny is discovered living in the woods, Dr. Hopper is fascinated by her strange behavior. She appears to be mute, but she's really just shy, and it seems that it's only Archie whom she's able to meet at eye level. This is the story of Thumbelina. Archie/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yay, Once Upon A Time!**

**I didn't get into this show until about two months ago (thanks to my brother for saving all the episodes on DVR!), but once I did, I totally fell in love with Dr. Archie "Jiminy" Hopper. He's the show's nerd (a trait I love), he's morally sound (duh), and he's just so damn cute! (Quickly after I started watching OUAT I scoured YouTube for as many movie clips featuring Raphael Sbarge as possible. He's older than my parents but at this point I don't think I care).)**

**Anyway. I have read and loved almost every Archie-centric fic on this website. There's some really great writing for him, but I'm not really feeling the pairings that people have put him on board with. I don't mean to bash anyone's favorite pairing. My feelings are just that we haven't seen Jiminy Cricket's true love on the show yet.**

**So I decided I would do something I hate and write an OC-centric fic. Well, actually, does it really count as an OC if I'm adapting a preestablished fairy tale into the show's style? Because that's what I did. I thought through fairy tales that haven't been used until I found a girl whom I thought made sense with Jiminy Cricket: Thumbelina! Honestly, I initially chose her because Jiminy has an insect's body and I thought it would be less creepy if she was his size. But now I think I have a pretty nice plot in my head that weaves Thumbelina and her Storybrooke counterpart into canon believably.**

**Blargh. Long Author's Note is long. How about we get on to the story? I really hope you like it. Please R&R!**

* * *

She ran forward and there was a tree. She turned to the left, and there was a tree. This entire forest was nothing but trees, and her head was beginning to hurt. She'd searched for hours, and although the day had started out sunny and promising, it was now dark and the wind was freezing her to the bone. The girl was starting to think that the woman she'd met outside the castle walls had lied to her – she _had _seemed rather smug. But it was too late for regrets. If she didn't find this cabin soon, she would be lost in the deep part of the forest forever.

Soon she found herself out of breath. She let instinct take over and fell to her knees, searching around with her hands for a nice mossy patch, which she found under a large tree. She felt a mouse-sized hole in the knot right above her head and smiled. There would be some acorns in the hole for her breakfast the next morning.

The girl gave a ragged sigh as she settled in between the roots of the tree. Her feral lifestyle made her comfortable sleeping in the woods. But she'd kind of been hoping that tonight would be different.

"Oh, Rumpelstiltskin, whoever you are, let me find you," she prayed as her eyes began to droop.

What she hadn't expected was an answer.

"Looking for me, are you, dearie?" tittered a voice.

* * *

"How did you know I would be looking for you?" the girl asked as she looked around in wonder. So maybe Rumpelstiltskin did exist, but that lady had really lied. Rumpelstiltskin didn't live in a tiny wooden cabin in the middle of the woods. This whole time, what she'd been looking for was the huge mansion at the forest's edge that she'd blindly walked past so many times that day.

"I have my informants," said Rumpelstiltskin. "Please, have a seat." He pulled a fluffy chair away from the table, and the girl sat graciously. She felt as though she would melt, it was so soft. "Care for a cup of tea?"

"Oh, yes, thank you." The girl smiled at the strange little man. True, his impish grin was disquieting. And he was filthy, but so was she. He was nowhere near as terrifying as she'd been warned.

Rumpelstiltskin went into the next room, strutting back in only moments later with two fine china teacups in hand. They were still piping hot and steaming. The girl reached out eagerly for her cup, but Rumpelstiltskin yanked it away from her just as she was beginning to feel its warmth.

"What is your name, dearie? I never extend my hospitality to someone if I don't know her name."

The girl bit her lip. "I don't have a name," she whispered.

Rumpelstiltskin tilted his head. "An orphan, I see," he said, and for a moment the girl feared that she would be kicked out to be on her own again. To her relief, he let out a disjointed chuckle and slowly handed her the cup of tea. "I have rules, dearie, but as I made them, I can break them. Lucky for you, you've gained my pity."

The girl grinned. She gently took the hot teacup from his hand and inhaled. She smelled sweet cloves. She never had cloves.

She was just about to take a sip when Rumpelstiltskin spoke again. "But of course, I need something to call you – how else am I to speak to you? As you are now in my debt, I feel it's only fair that I am the one to name you."

The girl wrinkled her brow and set the teacup on the table. "Oh?" she said hoarsely. That wasn't what she'd expected when she'd gone on her search. To have a near stranger give her a name seemed far too impersonal.

"Yes," Rumpelstiltskin said. He took a step back and looked her painstakingly up and down. Under the scrutiny of his gilt eyes, she felt oddly exposed for a girl who wore a dress of leaves. "I've got it," he said after a moment. "Your name shall be Thumbelina."

"Thumbelina?" The girl couldn't help but laugh. "That's unusual."

"I believe it suits you, dearie. Now drink your tea and we'll talk business."

Thumbelina took a sip and turned to face the table. But to her surprise, Rumpelstiltskin did not join her at the table, instead choosing to sit on a stool by the large spinning wheel in the corner. "Aren't you going to sit at the table?"

"I prefer to spin while I talk," he said plainly. He had already started working the thread – or what appeared to be thread. When Thumbelina looked more closely, she saw that it was going in straw and coming out pure gold.

"Thumbelina, I assume you wish for me to remedy your little parental problem for you," said Rumpelstiltskin.

"Oh, could you, please?" Thumbelina begged. "I want a real family."

"Is that so? I take it that you, a girl whose parents died so soon after her birth, would have found at least someone to fill the roles. Otherwise, how could you have survived?"

Thumbelina bit her lip as she thought. "Maybe I've had some friends," she said finally. As a young girl, she would sneak into town and talk to children her age. When they grew and began work, she formed bonds with animals she met – bears, squirrels, birds, and more, all of them quickly killed by huntsmen. "They're all gone now."

"How sad." Rumpelstiltskin chuckled again as he lifted his foot from the wheel's pedal. "Tell me, Thumbelina," he said, rising from his stool, "how did you get so good at hiding? When the Queen told me I should be expecting a guest, I went on a search for you. That took much longer than usual."

"The Queen?"

"Yes, dearie. The _Evil _Queen." He chuckled.

Thumbelina's throat went dry and she pushed away her tea. Only then did she realize what she could be getting herself into. An evil queen? How could she be so trusting? "I'm sorry," she said. "Someone made a mistake – I don't think I should be here."

Head ducked, she began to run for the door, but Rumpelstiltskin's chilling voice stopped her short. "I was only complimenting how marvelously sneaky you are. I must say, it's a talent!" She heard the clack of his boots as stepped towards her. "Could be put to good use." Two more clicks of his heels. "Have you, dearie, ever considered the gentleman's art of thievery?"

Such a suggestion! Fighting her instinct to run and hide, Thumbelina slowly pivoted to face him with a face as serious as stone. "Is that what you assume?" she said in a pained hush. "Just because I didn't have anyone to raise me, because I'm lonely and always have been, didn't make me a thief. I'm resourceful, but at least I have a conscience."

"You're a good girl, then," snickered Rumpelstiltskin. "In that case, I suggest you stop taking advice from evil queens and start listening to your new family." With a flick of his hand, he swiped something from his pocket – a tiny seed.

"What . . . so you'll do it?" Against her better judgement, Thumbelina let a nervous smile flicker across her face.

"But of course. You'll find I'm always keen to do favors, dearie," said Rumpelstiltskin. "And besides, I believe I have the perfect family for you. An old widower, desperate for a child to raise, who uses his hobbies to fill the void. He came to me when he realized that magic was the only way to get what he wanted."

"He wants a child to _raise?_ I'm twenty-five years old."

"That's where this comes in," replied Rumpelstiltskin, gesturing to the seed between his fingers. He picked Thumbelina's discarded teacup up from the table and dropped it in. It dissolved in a sparkling steam. "Take this potion and your new daddy won't be able to tell you from a wee toddler."

Thumbelina's eyes were slowly widening in awe. Magic was something positively novel to her. "It will turn me into a little girl?"

"You could say that." Rumpelstiltskin chuckled.

_To be young again! _Thumbelina grinned and scurried before the little man. "Oh, thank you," she began as she reached out for the tea-turned-potion.

But before she could grab it, Rumpelstiltskin yanked the cup away. "Before you drink this, it is my obligation to make sure you know that all magic comes with a price. That price, of course, includes my fee."

Thumbelina withdrew. "I don't have money."

"It needn't be money, dearie, merely something of value – and I believe you have just what I need."

Thumbelina's eyebrows knit, her lips parting quietly in bafflement. Not only did she not have money, she had absolutely nothing that could be of monetary value to anyone. Nevertheless, Rumpelstiltskin was looking at her with an air of absolute certainty. She couldn't imagine what he might want, but whatever it was, it couldn't take so much away from her that she would refuse. Unless her life or virginity was at stake, she would make any trade.

Mustering as much confidence as she could, she swallowed and said, "What would that be?"

"You seem to be in possession of many leaves," Rumpelstiltskin said. His eyes moved up and down her body, and, full of dread, she let her eyes follow.

He was talking about her clothing. Thumbelina pressed her hands flat against the thigh of her dress, fearing that perhaps her virginity _was_ a part of the deal.

Seeing this, Rumpelstiltskin chuckled. "Oh, no need to worry, dearie, it's just for a spell I wish to try. It would be so much more of a hassle to go out into the woods and gather the leaves individually, wouldn't it?"

Thumbelina didn't budge.

"If it's any consolation, I won't take the dress until you're already with your new family, when you'll have all the clothing you need. And I promise to leave you one leaf."

Slowly, Thumbelina nodded. Because she had nothing, he was literally taking the clothes off her back. It seemed fair enough. She just wanted to meet this father as soon as possible. "Okay."

Rumpelstiltskin's mouth crept into a crafty grin. "You've made the right choice, Thumbelina. Now," he added, offering her the teacup, "drink up."

Graciously, she took it and brought it to her mouth. She let it rest there, grazing her upper lip, as she savored the moment and anticipated what would come after. The smell alone of the life-changing concoction had her dizzy with its magical potency. Soon it became so overwhelming that she couldn't stall any longer. She gulped down half of it.

The taste hadn't even reached the back of her throat before the headache began. Thumbelina felt as if her skull was trying to squeeze her brain until it burst. All over the rest of her body, her skin began to feel as if it were stretched too tight. _Don't worry, it's just how magic works, _she tried to reassure herself. But there was no denying the pain in her chest as her heart pumped blood faster and faster.

Through her growing, she attempted one final grateful smile in Rumpelstiltskin's direction. She never got to see his reaction. The girl's face was only inches from the floor when she blacked out, her last thought being how strange that was – she hadn't felt at all like she was falling.

* * *

When Jiminy arrived at the house, he found Gepetto in the same place where he'd left him, standing anxiously over the little makeshift garden. As he landed on the old man's shoulder, he examined the afternoon's progress. Fresh green buds had sprouted in patches around the dirt pile, but it was still essentially nothing _but_ a dirt pile, with not a flower in sight.

"I told you, Gepetto, it's not going to happen right away," said the cricket into his friend's ear.

Gepetto turned his head, evidently startled to find someone else there. "Rumpelstiltskin told me that they were magic seeds. You do remember, don't you?"

Jiminy lowered his head and frowned at the no-good trickster's name. It was difficult to see how much Gepetto wanted a child. Even the story of how his parents were killed wasn't enough to eliminate the Dark One as a resource. It was too late for Jiminy to convince him otherwise, so the best he could do was try to quell Gepetto's impatience. "He did say that, but just because it's quicker doesn't mean it won't take time."

"I know, Jiminy. I know." Gepetto put his hand over his forehead in distress. "I... I simply don't think it's fair. When you stare at puppets all day, with their childlike faces, they start to look like real children. It's the most heartbreaking feeling when you wait for them to speak and realize that you're imagining it all, that they're lifeless dolls and can't replace the thing you always wanted but couldn't have . . . " Specks of tears were forming in the corners of his bloodshot eyes, an occurrence that had recently been happening more often than normal.

Jiminy sighed and fluttered his wings in sympathy. "A watched pot never boils, and yet you've been standing here all day. I think that what you need is to get some sleep."

"No, I can't do that! There's going to be a storm tonight. I can see it making its way over the forest. What if it happens tonight? The child could get hurt!"

"Listen to yourself, Gepetto! You're hysterical!" Gepetto began to open his mouth in protest, but Jiminy cut him off. "Why don't I watch the garden overnight?" he said. "I will do whatever I can to help it does grow – after all, I have an umbrella." He pulled his umbrella out from under his arm and opened it to back up his point.

Gepetto responded with silence.

"If this is meant to work, you'll know when it happens. There's no reason to wait."

Gepetto stared longingly at the little garden plot. Then, with a sigh, he blinked away his tears and turned away. Jiminy lifted himself off of his shoulder and watched to poor old man trod into his house.

As he settled onto a blade of grass, Jiminy heard thunder booming, closer than it had been all that day. "Don't worry, little flower. I won't let it get you," he chirped to himself. He huddled under his umbrella, not taking his eyes off the patch of dirt.

Over the next hour, the color of the sky faded into a dark blue-black. The air around Jiminy grew tepid, and finally, the rain started to fall. It started out as what a human would consider a nonthreatening drizzle, which to a cricket is about the width of his arm. But even as the raindrops grew until they were the size of his head, Jiminy didn't budge. Not only did he have his umbrella, but he was seeing something so mesmerizing that he couldn't look away.

The rain was causing the buds in the garden to grow at a rapid pace. From little green stems they sprouted leaves and soon towered over every neighboring blade of grass. Making out as much as he could in the dark, Jiminy watched as the plants became silhouettes of roses and azaleas and pansies, all surrounding one gigantic tulip whose colors were so bright, he could make out its orange and violet pattern through the shadows.

Jiminy buzzed off the blade of grass, forgetting that he needed to let Gepetto sleep. Fortunately, the wind kept him from getting very far before the tulip's petals folded away, revealing something that shocked Jiminy enough that he let himself fall to the ground.

Inside the tulip, there was a human girl sleeping. Her hair was neatly combed and she looked perfectly healthy besides the fact that she couldn't have been more than two inches tall. Wrapped around her like a dress was a single brown leaf.

* * *

**A/N: The next chapter will take place in Storybrooke, and we'll meet Thumbelina's real life counterpart! **

**Reviews are appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and favorited the first chapter! I'm sorry that this chapter took so long – I had its first scene done before I even published the first chapter, but then it took a while for me to figure out how the rest of it should go down. **

**You know, I still LOVELOVELOVE Archie, but I'm also starting to get a little crush on August. Okay, okay, I'm a little obsessed. I've started writing a oneshot about him, and since we now know that he and Archie started in the same story, I think I'm gonna have to incorporate him into this one, too. Must be the writing thing. :) **

**Hope you enjoy this chapter! Please R&R!**

* * *

It was a chilly April morning in Storybrooke. The sidewalk was still damp from the previous afternoon's shower, and the gray sky showed signs of giving way to nature again. Archie had his umbrella at the ready like always on his way to work. For him, it seemed like it would be an average day.

He was just about to turn onto the street by Granny's when his dog barked.

Archie stopped. Pongo rarely barked unless something was the matter. "Do you see something, boy?" he said, squinting across the street.

As he focused more intently, Archie was able to hear a faint whistle in the distance. He couldn't tell where it came from, but Pongo could. The dog barked again and began to walk. In the wrong direction. His leash wrapped around Archie's legs, forcing him to spin around on his heels.

"Pongo . . . Pongo, stop!" scolded Archie.

It was a futile effort. Once Pongo had his eyes on something, there was no stopping him. Archie just wanted his dog to slow down enough for him to see where they were going, and preferably not crash into the woman standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

Or perhaps, Archie realized with dismay, she was the target.

Archie dug his feet into the ground and tugged harder on the leash, but Pongo was already running circles around the poor pedestrian.

"Pongo! Stop," he begged. "I'm sorry, ma'am, he doesn't usually –" He trailed off when he heard a giggle.

The woman was kneeling down and scratching Pongo behind the ears. "No, it's fine," she said in a quiet, almost sad voice. "I actually whistled him over. What did you say his name was? Pongo?"

"Uh . . . yes."

"Well, Pongo, you're such a pretty boy, aren't you?" she said, scratching him on the back and bringing her face to his. Pongo licked her on the nose and she let out another shy giggle. Then she looked up at Archie. "I'm sorry," she said, giving the dog one more scratch before standing. "I love Dalmatians. Not many people have dogs in Storybrooke, have you ever noticed that?"

"Yes, I . . . I mean, I suppose," Archie stuttered. Making small talk with strangers was never especially difficult for him – it certainly wasn't his favorite thing to do, but he could do it. But this young woman hadn't given him time to figure out who she was. And as she spoke, he started feeling quite confused. Her dust-brown hair was unwashed and tangled and lay in ungraceful clumps on her shoulders. Her clothes, a T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants, were clearly homemade, with mismatched colors and very visible stitching. They were torn and stained all over.

Obviously, he was now in the presence of one of Storybrooke's less fortunate citizens, but that wasn't what bothered him. What bewildered Archie was how she didn't act nearly as pathetic as she looked. She stood with her shoulders wide and didn't seem ashamed to meet her quizzical, chocolate-colored eyes with his. The fact that she seemed to be his exact height only served her confident air.

And although her voice was soft, she spoke in a direct manner. "Well, I don't want to make you late for anything," she said, eyeing his jacket and tie. "Your dog is beautiful. And very friendly, I'll add."

"Thank you. Um, he appreciates it."

The woman smiled. A single dimple revealed itself under her left cheek. "Of course he does, he's such a sweetie!" She laughed. "Have a good day," she said before turning around. She started walking down the sidewalk, but then she paused and faced him again. "That's a very nice umbrella, but take it from an outdoorswoman, you probably won't need it today," she said. She turned and, finally, disappeared into a back alley.

Archie couldn't help but stare in the direction she'd gone, his face twisted contemplatively. "Gee, Pongo," he sighed after a moment. "How did you wind up with better people skills than me?" He laughed for his own benefit as he went on his way, letting the dog trot a few paces ahead.

In fact, he had to let Pongo lead the way. Something about that very brief encounter had him in a stupor. He'd never met her before, and from the look of her, she was an outsider. For a moment, as he'd watched her sneak into that empty back alley, he'd wondered if the girl needed someone's help. But she'd seemed so well-adjusted. Perfectly regular.

He was only a block away from his office when he got a grip of himself. _You know better than to wonder about people, Archie, _he thought. _Everyone in this town has some secret agenda, and compared to other folks you know, she was completely unremarkable. Besides . . . _He sighed as he rounded the steps to his office . . . _you'll probably never see her again._

* * *

"I'm taking a lot of pictures of them with my phone. I mean, that's something that new dads do, right?" Michael, the overtired mechanic, poked around the pockets of his coveralls for his cell phone. He found it and handed it to Archie.

The dingy screen showed a very blurry image of an only vaguely human form. "I'm not sure what this is a picture of, Michael," said Archie, holding the phone at a scrutinizing arm's length.

"Oh. That's Nick. He was eating cereal for breakfast and he got one of those milk moustaches. It was adorable."

Archie raised an eyebrow as he looked at the picture more closely. He couldn't see the milk moustache, but he could just make out the slight grimace on the boy's face. "While I'm not going to disagree with you," he said gently, "just remember that your kids are eleven and twelve. Nick might not appreciate the embarrassing baby pictures." He handed the phone back to Michael and noticed his client's nervous smile fall.

Archie sighed inwardly. Although he loved doing what he did, patients like Michael were always difficult. This wasn't simply helping someone talk through their issues, it was guiding them through something that they had no idea how to do – in Michael's case, parenthood. In his mind, Archie quickly went through all of the pieces of advice he could think to give, trying for something that would give Michael some hope. "I think you should find the time to talk with Sheriff Swan," he eventually decided. "Her situation is similar to yours, and though she's not a doctor, I can't be expected to know everything. Michael?"

He looked over at Michael, who had, frustratingly, drifted off yet again to check the clock. Archie couldn't find it in his heart to call his attention back. He'd lost focus himself more than once throughout the session, his thoughts shifting to the girl on the sidewalk that morning against his better will. He was just beginning to think that maybe he should let Michael be alone with his thoughts when both of them were startled by Archie's cell phone going off.

Michael looked up, a bit bewildered. "What?"

"Speaking of Sheriff Swan, she's calling me," said Archie as he read the caller ID. "One second, Michael. Hello?"

"Archie, how good are you at interrogating people?" said the all-business voice of Emma Swan.

"Um . . . " Archie was no stranger to Emma's directness, but sometimes what she asked of him was a bit bizarre, although that was just how it was when you're friends with a cop. "I can't say I've ever tried."

"Well, I need you to come down here anyway."

"What's the problem?"

There was a short pause from the other end, followed by a short, impatient sigh from Emma. "It's not something I can explain over the phone. You need to see it. Come down here as soon as you can, could you?"

"Uh . . . yeah, Emma, I'll be right there."

Emma sighed again. "Great," she muttered before hanging up.

Archie stared at the phone for a moment, his brow furrowed. At this point he should have been used to strange things happening in Storybrooke, but he was still confused.

As was Michael. "What did she want?" he asked.

Archie slowly stood and reached for his jacket. "She wants me at the police station." He shrugged as he pulled his arms through the sleeves. "But she won't tell me why."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "So that means this is over early?"

"Yes. I'm sorry," said Archie, "but she's the sheriff. I hope this isn't too much of a problem?"

"No, it's fine," Michael assured him, cracking a small smile. "Actually, it's a relief. Ava and Nick get out of school at noon today. For Spring Break, right? I want to take them out for lunch, but I was worried this would go too long." He stood up and grabbed his jacket as well, and began walking towards the door.

Archie smiled and nodded. "Exactly. That's a great thing to do for your kids. Where were you thinking of? Granny's?"

Michael already had his hand on the doorknob, but although he seemed very eager to leave, that question gave him pause. "You know, usually I would go to Granny's. But I walked by it on the way here, and I think I'm gonna bypass it today."

"Why's that?"

"You haven't seen the hobo?" asked Michael. Archie raised his eyebrow and shook his head, prompting the mechanic to nod and explain. "She was sitting out front of the diner with a bag next to her. But she wasn't doing anything. She just stared at me." His face twisted into a pained expression. "Kind of creepy."

"Well. That's . . . that's interesting." It wasn't until they were both out on the street that Archie put all the pieces together. Quickly, he proved it was indeed possible to pass an excited and nervous new father on the sidewalk.

* * *

"I'm flattered that you want my help, Emma, but what I think you're telling me is that I'm here to see a woman whose worst crime was loitering."

The sheriff sighed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "And you're exactly right," she said. "Under any other circumstance, I would've made her sleep in the cell and let her go tomorrow morning with no questions."

"But this is an extraordinary circumstance because . . . " Archie bowed his head as he studied Emma's blase expression, hoping to see some change that would warn him of what was waiting for him. It didn't work.

"Granny has been getting very specific complaints about this woman all morning. Apparently she just sits out front with a black plastic bag next to her – "

"Not doing anything, just staring, creeping you out," Archie interrupted quietly.

Emma nodded slowly. "You already know we're dealing with a freak but you're still asking me all of these questions," she said.

"I've heard about this girl through word of mouth," Archie defended himself. "I don't think I want to pass judgement on her just yet."

"Well, wait until you hear this part," Emma said, placing her hand conversationally on the hallway wall. "Nobody seems to know who she is. Granny had at least twenty parties complain to her, and none of them recognized her. And I asked Ruby, who said that she was watching her out the window and didn't see her speak once all morning."

"All morning?"

"Yeah." Emma shrugged. "Ruby's still kind of a slacker. What I'm trying to say is that I've tried to get this girl's side of the story, but she is completely unresponsive. I figured that you're a therapist so you must know something about people. I need your help to determine whether or not I should be suspicious."

Archie knit his brow. He wasn't entirely comfortable with this – just knowing that the culprit was secure in the next room was nerve-wracking. But Emma's hard, sardonic stare was very convincing. "I don't have another appointment for an hour," he said, his throat barely dry enough to get the words out. "I suppose I could meet with her until then."

Emma nodded. "All right. She's over there." With that, she stepped out of the doorway to her office, revealing a girl huddled up on the cell bed.

On some level, Archie had expected what he saw. But it still made him jump to see the girl with the frizzy hair and the rags on her back sitting there, simply because as he'd recalled the young woman from the sidewalk all that day, she'd been outlandishly confident. But now, she was curled up into a quivering ball in the corner.

She flinched when she heard the sound of people entering the room. Cautiously, she lifted her head. Archie forced a nervous smile when her eyes caught his.

And then, her posture snapped right back into place – her shoulders wide, her chest lifted, her dark brown eyes smiling. Archie felt his face turn pink. This was the woman he remembered intimidating him so much. "I know you!" she said, in a soft voice that echoed across the room. "You own that beautiful Dalmatian."

Archie's heart beat sporadically as he walked to the cell. Not knowing what else to do, he waved. "Yes. Um . . . hello."

Her eyes followed him unendingly. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, uh . . . " Archie cleared his throat. "I don't feel as if we had a sufficiently formal introduction this morning. My name is Dr. Archibald Hopper. I'm a psychologist, and I was hoping to ask you a few questions."

The woman shifted her weight on the bed and reached her hand through the bars. "Hi, Dr. Hopper," she said. She motioned towards her hand with her head, and Archie warily reached out to shake it. Patches of her skin were callused, while the rest was comfortingly soft. "It's really great to meet you again. My name's –"

But before she could give her name, she went mute. Her eyes had wandered, and now her head was dropped and she was quivering just as she had been a minute before. Archie turned to see what had caused the change, but the only thing odd was Emma standing right behind him with her first bemused expression of the day.

"God, that's the most I've heard her talk!" she whispered. "Or, that's to say, that's _all _I've heard her talk. How did you do it, Archie?"

Archie didn't respond. Finally he understood what everyone had been grumbling about all morning, and it was still registering in his mind.

So Emma tried to take over. "You were about to tell him your name, weren't you? What's your name?"

The girl just cowered, clutching tightly onto the large black garbage bag in her lap.

Archie watched. She was a bit pathetic, this young woman, and it was clear that they wouldn't get any results by pushing her. He motioned for Emma to back off. "Sweetheart," he called to the girl before biting his lip. He had intended to be gentle, but he hadn't meant to say that. But at the same time, it got the girl's attention back. She lifted her head, and her scared eyes smiled a bit. So Archie tried again. "Listen, I don't want to make you feel unsafe, and neither does Sheriff Swan. We just want to know your name."

"My name?" The words came out in a barely audible whisper, but as she kept eye contact with Archie, he noticed that her posture straightened ever so slightly. "I'm Minny."

* * *

**A/N: I hope you liked it! In the next chapter, we're back in the fairy tale world.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait. I was pretty unmotivated for a while, but then I had a flash of inspiration. The good thing is that I now have a better, fuller idea of how this story is going to play out**.

**This chapter, however... erm, I'm not sure how happy I am with how it turned out. Hopefully I'm just being too hard on myself, but that's up to you to decide. **

**I conducted extensive research for this chapter. And by that, I mean I spent about ten minutes staring at the poor doomed crickets that my brother feeds to his pet lizard and asking them, "HOW WOULD I FEEL IF I WOKE UP AND ONE OF YOU WERE SUDDENLY MY SIZE?" It was a purely scientific process.**

**So read on, and enjoy! And don't forget to review.**

* * *

The patter of the rain was loud, perhaps the loudest storm Thumbelina had ever heard. But the noise alone wasn't enough to disturb the potion's slumber. She didn't wake until the air turned chilly and the raindrops began falling on her body.

Cold water spilled over her face and, with a gasp, she opened her eyes. She sputtered and gagged as the water flooded her throat. Another assault of raindrops struck her side, and although the force expelled the water from her mouth, it stung and flipped her onto her stomach. She found herself lying in a puddle.

Thumbelina flailed her arms about in the muck. Although the rain tried to keep her down, she eventually found something to grab onto. She clutched onto a soft surface as she unbent her knees. She couldn't tell what it was, but it seemed to be protecting her from the rain. Thumbelina recognized a fleshy texture under her fingers, an organic texture – it was dark and the silkiness of the bark was off-putting, but was it possible that she'd found a tree? She breathed as deep a sigh of relief as she could with her pulse at the rate that it was.

She wrapped her arms around the trunk. Soon the water cleared from her eyes, making the shapes surrounding her sharper.

But where was she? She'd never seen a tree with orange bark before, nor raindrops this massive. Rumpelstiltskin played games with customers – Thumbelina had been told – but something about this seemed almost criminal. There was no new family in sight.

Although she was safe from the rain itself, the wind was also growing stronger. The tree started to sway, dragging Thumbelina along with it. She told herself she was secure, holding more tightly onto the trunk for good measure. But not once did it occur to her than she wasn't standing on the ground.

It wasn't long before the gale shoved her away from her anchor and she started to fall.

Blood rushed to her head and the gargantuan droplets blinded her. But as she prayed and prepared herself for her inevitable horrid landing, she was surprised by a sudden dry spell. The rain stopped falling, although she could still hear raindrops striking the ground. The sound was overpowered by a soft buzzing above her head.

Someone had her in their arms. She was safe.

The water cleared from her eyes, and she got one last look at the tree before they drifted shut – its branches were strange things, spiky things pointed up in a circle like the petals of a flower. The last thought out of her heavy head before a gentle chirp lulled her back into dormancy was that it was no wonder the thing's real trunk had been swaying – its bark was a sickly green shade.

The person holding her said something. She didn't hear a word, but she thought it right to know who her savior was. "Papa?" she murmured before the dreadful storm disappeared and she fell asleep.

* * *

She woke up shivering but well-rested. Her head was still swimming, but her thoughts were clear enough that she could act on instinct.

Yanking her arms from the ground so quickly that she hardly noticed the pain from her sweaty skin tearing off of a sticky surface, Thumbelina felt at her collarbone with one hand and with the other reached down to her thigh. Both hands grabbed onto leaves. Damp and moldy, yes, but they were leaves – Rumpelstiltskin hadn't taken her clothes, after all.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

But then she realized what that meant: if he hadn't received his fee, how could she have gotten her prize?

With all the strength she could muster, Thumbelina pushed herself up to kneeling. She was ready to fight her way out of whatever cage she'd been trapped in by the imp. But her resting place had not been as flat as she'd thought – she began to tip to her side, and in a futile effort to regain her balance, she let something pointy lodge itself in her heel. She yelped and fell on her stomach. Just to make sure the girl was thoroughly incapacitated, something hard and metallic clocked her on the back of the head.

Thumbelina whimpered as she dragged herself away. She was discouraged to see that her attacker had been nothing but an old black umbrella. There she was, still orphaned and lost underneath an endless cavern ceiling, and her captor couldn't even bother torturing her himself.

She pulled herself to her knees but couldn't bring herself to stand any further. Going to Rumpelstiltskin had been a mistake. Talking to that evil queen had been a mistake. And letting herself be caught and her life be saved had been the biggest mistake of all. It could have been over and done with at the base of that hideous tree, but because she was still alive, she was cold and lonely and, based on the loud buzzing at the back of her head, going deaf as well.

"You're awake!"

The buzzing suddenly turned to footsteps when a man behind her spoke.

Thumbelina's heart stopped. There was a man behind her. Not only that, but a man with the most gentle, soothing voice she'd ever heard. Still, after meeting Rumpelstiltskin, she wasn't going to be jumping into any stranger's arms anytime soon. She took a deep breath. "Who's there? Who are you?"

"Well, to answer your earlier question, I'm not your Papa," chirped the voice before chuckling softly. "But I am a friend of his, and I hope to be a friend of yours, as well. Call me Jiminy."

Thumbelina smiled. She turned her head just enough to show him that she was listening. "Hello, Jiminy."

"I hope you didn't find your bed too uncomfortable. I wish I could have given you something better, but all I could do was get you out of the rain. My umbrella was all I had to offer, sorry." Jiminy's voice got louder as he approached. It was accompanied by that curious buzzing sound.

"Oh, I was very unconscious. No, I didn't mind the umbrella," said Thumbelina. "No, not at all. Here. I'm sure that . . . do you want it back?" She reached behind her and grasped around for the handle. Her arm strained to hold it up behind her back.

"Yes, thank you," said Jiminy, getting closer still. "I can't stand to be without this old thing. It doesn't rain often here, but when it does, oh boy, does it rain." The umbrella's weight lifted from Thumbelina's hands. She heard the man close it. "You'd best get used to it. It's dangerous for folks like us."

"Like . . . our family?"

"Like you and me. Those who are – well. You know what I mean. Don't you –" Jiminy paused. "How rude of me. I still haven't asked your name, have I?"

"My name?" This was it – time to test out her new name. Her first formal introduction to a stranger. "My name, yes. Um . . . " It wouldn't be enough to just share names. She took a deep breath in, forcing up the courage to take a first look into her new life, and spun around to face him. "I'm Thumb . . . oh, _gods." _

Thousands of unblinking eyes. Wings scraping a dry shell of a skeleton. Seeing this buggy thing standing over her, as big as her if not bigger, was enough to throw Thumbelina onto her back again. She averted her eyes and scrambled away as far and as fast as her arms could take her. Before she even made five feet, her arms gave out, half because of exhaustion, half because of their quaking in fear. There was nothing more she could do but pant on the ground as the creature leapt from the ground and flew towards her, ready to strike.

"Whoa! Please, calm down. You may feel fine now, but you took a terrible fall last night. You need to rest!"

A terrible fall, indeed. The creature was the only living being in sight, sure, but the beautiful voice couldn't be coming from it. Clearly, she'd hit her head and was hallucinating this Jiminy fellow who saved lives and let orphan girls sleep in his umbrella and dressed like a dapper young man in the same jacket and top hat that the monster seemed to wear. Or perhaps it was the potion that was playing with her mind. She slammed her hands over her temples – maybe if she made herself ignore the imaginary things, she could focus on fighting off the real danger.

"I don't want to make you feel unsafe, young lady. I just want to know your name."

Thumbelina shrunk as far from the creature as possible and shook her head vigorously.

She shuddered when it placed a brittle hand on her shoulder. It leaned in close to her and her teeth began to chatter. It opened its dark jaw and she shut her eyes, praying that nothing terrible happened.

"Sweetheart, I really do not mean to hurt you."

Whatever this creature was, it wasn't human. But it was also unmistakable – it was speaking. It was Jiminy.

Thumbelina opened her eyes ever so slightly. Jiminy had perhaps one of the most repulsive faces she had ever seen. But when he spoke – "There's no need to hide –" his voice reached straight for her soul. He slowed her racing heart and her heavy breathing with just his words, and she could even sense a kind smile in his dark jaw and thousands of eyes.

"But you're a giant _cricket!" _she cried hoarsely.

Jiminy took his hand off her shoulder and hopped back. He seemed startled. "A cricket, certainly. But a _giant . . . _gods. You weren't always like this, were you?"

"Like what?" Thumbelina knit her eyebrows. "What?" she asked as she shakily climbed to her feet.

A pair of sheer wings unfolded from behind Jiminy's jacket. He lifted himself from the ground and began buzzing around worriedly, his umbrella dangling precariously from his hand. "_Rumpelstiltskin. _Oh, you poor girl," he chirped. "He did this to you, didn't he?"

Thumbelina's head was spinning. Every time she got used to one strange thing, some new mystery reared its ugly head. "What did he do?" she whimpered.

Jiminy sighed. "How do I put this lightly?" he said as he landed before her. "Despite my mind, I am nothing more than an average cricket. You and I are standing under a kitchen table."

Reluctantly, Thumbelina looked up. The cave ceiling was stalactite-free, and indeed seemed much more polished than any cave ceiling she'd seen before. She gulped as her turned to the mouth of the cave. The entrance was guarded by two intricate wooden columns.

"No," she whispered. She looked down at her hands, her feet, her arms, her legs, her dress – had the little imp emptied her wallet of his fee, after all?

Her next instinct was to run from underneath the massive piece of furniture and verify her suspicions. But when she took a step, the nerves in her foot nettled. Jiminy had told her to rest, and she felt a compulsion to listen to what he said. So she stepped back to him and looked him right in his wise cricket eyes. "I'm small," she said.

Jiminy's antenna twitched. "It would seem so," he said.

"In fact, I'm exactly the size that you are," Thumbelina realized.

"Exactly as tall," Jiminy agreed.

Thumbelina couldn't help herself – she wrapped her arms around him and lay her head on his cricket shoulder. She needed a nice jacket to absorb her tears, of course. But besides that, something absolutely magnetic drew her to his shoulder. Maybe it was guilt for having thought of him a monster. Maybe it was the way he chirped "exactly" in his gentle voice. Maybe it was because he was now family. Whatever the reason, Thumbelina felt strangely comfortable in the arms of an exoskeleton.

"I'm Thumbelina, by the way," she sobbed quietly into his lapel.

Jiminy was silent for a moment. Thumbelina worried that perhaps she'd crushed his delicate body between her arms, but soon she heard him chuckle sadly and place his arms around her. "Thumbelina, for better or for worse, you're home," he said.

He held the umbrella so it rested against her leg. Thumbelina smiled through her tears as she felt the object completing the embrace. She was quite assured that there would be few surprises from that point on.

* * *

**A/N: If everyone's conscience sounded like Raphael Sbarge, there would be no more crime. Mmm...**

**Anywho, I hope you enjoyed. I'm off to camp on Sunday, so that means no more updates for at least three weeks. But it **_**is **_**a writing camp, so even if I have no Internet access, I will definitely be working on the next chapter during free time. And the best thing is that when I get back, my writing will be more polished, and the rest of the story will be even better than what I've managed to crap out for the past three chapters. So it'll all be worth it... right?**

**R&R!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'M SO SORRY! Another very long wait. I started this chapter as soon as I got back from camp, but then I got lazy. Most of this was written in the last few days, because I just got the OUAT First Season on DVD, and I fell in love with Archie all over again.**

**Just like Raphael himself, I really want Jiminy/Archie to have a love interest next season. And to be honest, I wouldn't mindif that love interest is Red, because even though I don't ship it, I don't dislike it either. Although I think that when fans ask Raphael if Red Cricket will become a reality and he doesn't deny that it will, I think that's less of a verification and more of a "Hi, I'm a heterosexual male and I would jump at the chance to make out with Meghan Ory." Just saying.**

**I like the beginning of this chapter, but by the end I was really just trying to finish it before school started on the fifth. I just barely made it, but as a consequence, the ending is totally rushed. I apologize for that as well.**

**But I hope you enjoy anyway! Please R&R!**

* * *

"Is that all? What's her last name?" Emma stood over Archie with her eyes wide and her shoulders broad. Perhaps it was because he was, for the first time, seeing her in the heat of her line of work, but Archie felt as if she dwarfed him. His shoulders drooped and he looked at the floor, losing any hope he had of looking professional in front of this woman.

The girl, Minny, was doing much worse than he was. Every glance Emma threw in her direction seemed to shrivel her down even further. Her knees were already tucked up to her chin when Archie repeated the question.

"Minny?" he said. "Could you tell the sheriff your last name?"

Minny shook her head, mouthing _No. _

Emma sighed. "Just when I thought we'd gotten somewhere..."

Archie felt the same way the sheriff did. He began to sigh with her before he felt a callused hand grab his. When he looked up, Minny was staring. Her teeth were chattering and her face was splotched all over with red, but at least her head was up. She even seemed to be communicating something. There was an urgency in her eyes.

"Is something the matter, Minny?" Archie whispered, gently letting her hand go.

Minny's eyes drifted to her side and identified the cause of her discomfort with a tilt of her head.

"Oh... I see." Archie looked from Minny to Emma, who urged him on with an exasperated glare. He even thought he saw her eyes roll tersely as he turned back to the girl in the cell. "If Sheriff Swan frightened you," he whispered to her, "I know she didn't mean to. She's a friend. I'm sure that, more than anything, she wants to let you go." He let himself crack a smile. "But before she can do that, she needs to make sure you're not a threat," he added, after which he dropped the smile. He was afraid that it had come off as less reassuring and more unsettling.

"Thanks, Archie," said Emma. She patted him on the shoulder and knelt down to the girl's level. "Dr. Hopper's right on the money. Come on. I'm not scary, am I?" With a smile, she once again let her maternal side be seen. She was a sweet woman, and despite knowing all she'd been through, Archie could recognize her good intentions, especially when she smiled softly like that.

But Minny was not convinced. She grabbed him again, this time by his arm and not his hand, and with a harder squeeze. Her grip was too weak to hurt him, but he could still feel her muscles trembling intensely through just the slight touch of her fingers. With terror clamping her teeth together, she could barely squeak out one syllable. Nonetheless, she tried. The tiny sound she made sounded to Archie like the word _Please. _

With reluctance, Archie turned to Emma. "I'm sorry, Ms. Swan."

Emma hesitated before she stood back up. "You're sure you don't need me?" she said.

"No, I wouldn't say that," Archie replied as he stood. He walked around Emma, leading her to the other side of the room, so they didn't impose on Minny. "But she's not responding, and although I cannot tell you why this is, it seems that you're the reason."

"Hmm." Emma nodded. "Well, I _did _arrest her. I can't really take that back, can I?" She glanced in Minny's direction before taking a few steps towards the hall. "Good luck," she said quietly. "Find out if there's anyone in town who she knows so I can contact them. And find out what's in the bag." With that, she stepped out.

"I don't have one." The voice startled Archie, who had for a brief moment been under the illusion that he was now alone in the room. Minny was speaking again.

"I'm sorry?" said Archie.

"I don't have a last name," Minny answered. Already, her head was completely lifted and her posture was straight. "Just call me Minny. I've known two things for sure since I was little – my parents are dead, and that is the name they gave me."

"You're an orphan?" said Archie as he walked back to her.

"Sadly, yes."

"And I assume you have no siblings, aunts or uncles..."

"Listen," Minny interrupted. "I heard what that cop said. Sorry to disappoint you, but I really don't know anyone." She broke into a wide and mischievous smile. "I was a completely feral child, and I'm not all that different now."

A true feral child would lack all but the most basic social skills, suffer acquired physical disabilities, and be unsuccessful in using any proper human language. Minny was far too well-adjusted – that was the kind of thing that anyone could immediately tell, not just a psychologist. But was right then the time for Archie to clear up some terms? Minny wasn't a patient. He hadn't been called over to give her an analysis, just to get her to talk, and she'd done that without much help from him. He was best off getting Emma her answers and leaving. Something about this woman was getting him all sweaty, anyway.

Minny continued, "And you want to know what's in my bag?" She let said garbage bag fall from her lap. It hit the floor with a dull thud. "Well, it's some of my..." She trailed off before she finished the sentence.

"What?" Archie pleaded.

Minny squirmed. "It's embarrassing."

Archie was used to patients expressing shame. Finally, there was something about this meeting that he knew how to handle. He pulled up a stool from the desk, grabbed onto one of the cell bars to help express his sincerity, and smiled gently at her "Minny, anything you tell me will be kept confidential. I promise not to repeat anything," he said.

Minny knit her eyebrows. "What about the cop?"

Oh, right. Jeez, he really had no idea what he was doing. "_Unless," _he said, silently cursing himself for the mistake, "whatever you have in that bag is dangerous, I won't tell her what it is. I promise. Confidentiality is very important."

"Okay." Minny picked the bag off the ground and then hesitated before peeking inside. "This bag holds some of my best paintings." She smiled with satisfaction as she peered at the bag's contents.

"Paintings," Archie repeated dumbfoundedly. He glanced at the stains on her sweat pants. At first he'd assumed that they were food. Perhaps they were watercolors, but they looked more like berry juice than anything else.

"Yeah, I'm an artist," said Minny. "I get my canvas out of recycling bins and make my own paint with stuff like wild berries and rubbing grass on the paper."

"Ah. These paintings, are they something you'd be willing to share?"

Minny hugged the bag to her chest again and tilted her head. "Um... I'd rather not."

Archie sighed. "I believe you," he said. "And I understand if you're insecure about your work. But when it comes to law and justice... The whole system requires proof before the things you believe can be considered valid."

For a few moments, Minny just sat there. Then she slowly lifted one leg onto her bed. She was putting up shields. He'd probably scared her by mentioning the justice system in such harsh terms – it was the kind of thing you talked about to someone accused of rape or murder, not a loiterer. The sheriff had made a mistake – Archie might have known people, but he was no deputy.

And the worst part was, even if she were a patient, he would have still wanted her to show him the paintings. Artwork was a useful tool in psychology. Frankly, it wasn't as easy to interpret as a person's actions, but it could be eye-opening for the patient and the doctor both.

As he watched Minny sigh and stare forlornly at the ground, Archie came to a decision. A little analysis couldn't hurt her.

"And besides," Archie said, moving his chair just a bit closer to the cell, "ultimately, I won't be judging you. I'm simply a fan of art, and I'm sure yours is fascinating."

Minny looked up. There were tears in her eyes, but they seemed to be little more than a passing mist. After a moment of contemplative silence, she said, "Well, you seem a nice enough. So I could show you. But there are some things I really should explain first."

Archie grinned – for the first time since he'd met this girl that morning, it was a genuine, joyful, involuntary grin – and nodded. "Absolutely. Go ahead."

To his surprise, Minny put down the bag and stood. With her hands on her hips and her shoulders broad, she began pacing the cell. "I go to that diner a lot. I've never actually been inside, but the alley next to it is probably my favorite in town. It always smells good, like cake. Gets me to sleep real fast."

"Hold on." Archie shot up and walked over to where she was now standing. "You sleep... you sleep in alleys?"

"Well, yeah. Did you really think I owned a mattress?" answered Minny, rubbing her eyes. Archie noticed faint purple circles under them.

He'd suspected this much about her situation earlier. "So you weren't so much 'feral' as you were a street child," he ventured.

Minny smiled simply at him. "Well, it's not as plain as that," she said with a tilt of her head. "There's more for me to tell," she added, gesturing for him to sit back down. She waited for him to oblige and then continued. "I _do _sleep in alleys, but that's because I don't want to get eaten alive by a bear. By day, I live in those woods..."

She talked for fifteen straight minutes. It was a tale of extreme self-sufficiency, a love of nature, and many, many tangents. Knowing that Minny liked all animals except birds, snakes, and toads was a nifty tidbit, but her reason for loitering outside of Granny's was more pertinent, not to mention absolutely fascinating. For more years than she could recall – twenty-six, at most – she'd survived by scavenging for practically everything in forests and dumpsters. She'd always painted pictures of wildflowers, and thought nothing of it. Only recently did she realize that with enough confidence, she could show her face in Storybrooke and try to sell those paintings. Unfortunately, she had no knowledge of business licences, and that wasn't the only thing she lacked.

"I lost all the confidence I had in my paintings when I realized that I lost my favorite brush – the yellow one!" Minny had her arms sprawled against the back wall of the cell, recounting her story with all the intensity of an actress amplifying her tiny voice. She breathed in huge gasps and looked almost ready to crash triumphantly onto the floor as she dashed back towards Archie to finish her speech. "I was already there, sitting on the steps with my paintings ready, but suddenly I just couldn't sell them. Imagine that, Dr. Hopper – it's your first time putting yourself out there to a bunch of strangers, but you don't have anything to put out in front of you. And to make matters worse, you're arrested for loitering!" She sighed, and after calming her breath for a few moments, she turned her head away and whispered, "It was humiliating."

All Archie could manage to say was, "I can see why." His heart was pumping so fast that he could just barely synthesize all that she'd said, let alone come up with words of his own. He felt absolutely blown away by this girl's self-assuredness. She was collected and she was bold, and although parts of her story seemed rather exaggerated (her language skills were oddly well-developed for that much isolation), he felt a sincerity in her that assured him she was not lying outright. He wanted to see her artwork even more than before.

"Do you understand why my paintings are so important to me, Dr. Hopper?" said Minny.

Archie sighed, still a bit overwhelmed. "I think so," he murmured. He thought for a moment. "Yes, I do. You certainly made it all very clear."

Minny smiled. "Wonderful." She walked to the bed and picked up her bag. "You can see them now," she said cheerfully. Suddenly, her face fell. She looked shocked, as if she had never expected to ever show them to anyone. "I still don't have my yellow brush, though. So if you have anything bad to say... Oh no." Her voice trailed off and the bag fell out of her hands.

Archie was about to reassure her when he noticed that her eyes were looking behind him. He turned around to see that Emma was back wearing every shade of bewilderment.

"Wow, Archie, I knew I'd have enough time for lunch, but if I'd known she had that much to say, I might've saved some time for dessert. Maybe a haircut."

"I'm sorry for any inconvenience, Ms. Swan –"

"You don't have to apologize for anything, Archie. I have a feeling we've got everything we need to know." Emma peeked over Archie's shoulder. "You're quite a chatterbox, aren't you?" There was silence for a moment. "Am I really _that _terrifying?"

Archie looked over his shoulder. The air of confidence that filled the jail cell was suddenly gone, replaced only by a bed, a garbage bag, and Minny. She was slouching and looked a foot shorter than she had a minute before.

Emma practically had to drag Archie out into the hall. "I swear, she was talking, Emma," he stammered once Minny was out of earshot. "I don't understand it! The minute she saw you, she went mute."

"Yeah, I heard her," Emma replied. "I was standing out in the hall for almost ten minutes. Although it didn't seem so much to me like talking as it did a whole lot of shouting."

"Hmm." Archie tilted his head and grimaced.

"Does she have any contacts?"

"No... ah, she doesn't know anyone." Archie sighed. "But I don't think she's a danger. She's a... well, it's really rather tragic... a homeless orphan."

Emma grimaced. "Wow. Are you okay after all of that?" she said, putting a hand on his arm.

"I'll be fine... I'm a little dizzy, that's all." It was true – his head was so light it felt like he was floating. But it wasn't so much out of uneasiness than it was out of pure adrenaline.

"Well, I really have to thank you," said Emma, patting him on the shoulder. "I know it was an intrusion, but it was a huge help. People were really freaking out about this."

"Well, the honor was mine," Archie responded. "This was... well, fascinating." He peered back into the main room. He saw Minny huddled up in a ball on the floor and felt sad and captivated at the same time by this honest-to-God anomaly. He couldn't help but stare. "I have another appointment soon, so –"

"Yeah. Thanks again, Archie," said Emma. Archie smiled at her when he walked past. In return, she flashed him a strange look.

With that look, had Emma been trying to tell him that she knew something he didn't? Archie couldn't even find the time to wonder what that might have been. For the rest of the afternoon, he couldn't get thoughts of Minny and her story out of his head. _How, _he wondered, _can she speak so well? Why, _he wondered, _did she change so suddenly from timid to personable and back so quickly? And why, _he wondered, _was I so concerned about looking professional in front of her? _Those questions persisted throughout the night and until the next morning, when on his way to work, he spotted an unnaturally yellow twig sticking out of the mud on the side of the road. When he picked it up, it left yellow specks on his fingers. When he felt the bristles brushing against his palm, joy rushed through him along with a sudden desire to find someone. In that moment, he realized what Emma had been trying to convey.

He was too selfless.

That had to be it, right?

* * *

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! Next chapter is back in the FTW.**

**By the way, that part where it says Archie was so dizzy it felt like he was floating? Written from life. I've been sitting at my computer all day trying to get this done and now I need a lot of physical activity to get back to normal.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Long wait for a short chapter, I know. Argh! Damn writer's block.**

**But this story is definitely not dead. It is coming along slowly but surely.**

* * *

Thumbelina wanted to meet her Papa right away, but his snoring almost drowned out the sound of her stomach grumbling. So Jiminy suggested she eat something first. He had something other than the kitchen in mind, though – his arms were soon linked with hers, and the two of them were hovering through the translucent and clean new morning. Thumbelina grabbed his sleeves for dear life, trying not to catch a sideways look at the forest. What had once been home was now a vast jungle of greens browns, and blackness.

But she wouldn't have to go back there. The rest of her life might even be better than the time she'd spent in the forest. Maybe being tiny wouldn't be the worst thing. After all, now she had a family.

Jiminy rested her on something familiar and sturdy – a twig – and soon, he'd picked a grape for her from the gleaming green bunch above her head.

"Gods, it's enormous!" Thumbelina exclaimed as she crawled to its side.

"It may help you adjust if you think of it as a melon," said Jiminy as he twisted the stem.

Thumbelina stretched out her arms. It was far bigger than any melon she had ever seen. Why, you could rest a large cantaloupe under the crook of your elbow. She doubted she could even get her two arms around this.

As she marveled at this bizarre meal, Jiminy removed the stem and tossed it to the ground. He reached for the hole it left and peeled off a strip of thick green skin. "There you go! Enjoy, but pace yourself."

Thumbelina didn't realize how long it had been since she'd last eaten until there was already a crevice as deep as her elbows in the side of the grape. Her arms were sticky and dripping with pulp.

"Pace yourself, Thumbelina!"

Thumbelina tilted her head apologetically as she tried to wipe her hands on her legs. "I was so hungry . . . ugh. That filled my belly quickly." She chuckled faintly and held her stomach

Jiminy bowed his head before fluttering to her side. "It's one of the many things you'll have to get used to . . . Are you alright?"

"I – no, I –" Thumbelina began to go cross-eyed and suddenly couldn't feel her arms. Gravity took hold of her once again, making her entire body collapse. She had only enough control so that her fall was not off the edge of the branch.

Luckily, Jiminy was there to catch her. He grabbed her shoulders, stifling her fall until she regained feeling in her extremities. She steadied herself against his abdomen and inhaled profoundly so as to signal her quick recovery. Relieved, Jiminy began to push her away. But Thumbelina would not have it. She held on despite his freezing up because she needed a jacket to absorb her tears.

"It's just _too much," _Thumbelina whispered after a painful silence.

With a sigh, Jiminy lowered the two of them down, leaving the grape's remains behind. They returned to the house, but instead of the kitchen, this time Jiminy took Thumbelina to the bedroom, where Gepetto had an oak cradle made and ready for her. On the whole, its size was more suited for an average baby, but it had contained a down pillow that made a much more comfortable bed than the umbrella. As he set her atop the pillow, Jiminy began to whisper an assurance that she would adjust, but her eyes were already closed. For the second time, she'd fallen asleep in his arms.

* * *

Thumbelina needed to see her father. He'd been promised to her and as yet, she hadn't seen him. She still felt lost, and until they met, she was certain she would stay lost.

She woke up in a dark place, but there were just enough dusty lines of light above her head for her to see an outline of her surroundings. A line of trees surrounded her –

No. This was her new small world. They couldn't be trees.

Closer examination showed that they were manmade wooden poles of some kind. It seemed a very inefficient prison for a two-inch tall girl, until Thumbelina crept between two of the poles and saw how far she was from the ground. With a gasp, she stepped away and sat down so she could collect herself. As she did so, she heard a threatening sound, like the rustling of a bear whose cave she'd made the mistake of sleeping in. Instinctively, she readied her fists.

But as her vision adjusted, it became obvious that whatever had made the noise wasn't a bear. It was a human man, on the other side of the room, turning in his sleep.

_Papa._

All her life, she'd wished for this. All of the food she collected, all of the predators she bested or befriended, all the shelters she'd scavenged together – they'd all been in the hopes that she would survive the forest long enough to see her wish come to fruition, and finally, it had paid off.

Or had it? She didn't feel lucky. She felt lost. The thought of approaching this sleeping human being had her terrified, and not in an exciting way.

Nonetheless, this was her reward. She had to go to it.

Thumbelina took a deep breath and approached the wooden poles again. Cautiously, she poked her head through two of them and looked down, where she saw another, longer wooden pole that supported her bed. The leg had complicated, minute designs carved into it all the way down. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Thumbelina discovered that her tiny feet wedged themselves perfectly into some of the carvings. Within minutes, and with minimal splinters, she'd climbed to the floor.

The floor was hugely vast, an entire wasteland between her and her wish. Breakfast and sleep had only energized her enough to get her across. Once she reached Gepetto's bed, all there was left to trek was the cat-sized set of stairs from the floor to the mattress – an easy climb, similar to the steppes that Rumpelstiltskin had led her up to get to his mansion. But she couldn't proceed. All she could do was shout.

"Papa! Papa!" she belted as loud as she could.

It seemed to take effect. Gepetto's snoring waned, and his stirring became more focused.

"It's me, your daughter!"

The snoring stopped altogether, and finally, Thumbelina shouted louder than ever:

"I'm your daughter! Thumbelina!"

The figure atop the bed rotated, lifting groggily from the torso up. With some reluctance, Gepetto was waking up, sitting up, turning his head so he might see her, standing, crushing . . .

The slippered foot descended like a boulder rolling down the steppes. Thumbelina screamed futilely, anticipating a quick death as she stood paralyzed. Thankfully, a hand grabbed her arm and yanked her away before she was squashed like a giant grape.

She and Jiminy (she couldn't see him, but it had to be Jiminy) hid under the bed for at least a minute while Gepetto stumbled around half-asleep and finally, bewildered, returned to bed.

"Oh my gods, Jiminy, I thought _you _were a monster when I first saw you!" Thumbelina said once she caught her breath. "I'm sorry!"

Jiminy sighed. She could hear him breathing heavily from the rush to save her, which seemed distinctly un-buggy. "It's my fault – I'd planned to introduce you myself, or at the very least warn you." Thumbelina felt him shakily place a hand under her chin. It shocked her, and not simply because of the gesture itself. It was the most genuine human kindness she'd felt in years, and it was coming from an insect. "I know it's a difficult transition. You _will _adjust. I promise."

Thumbelina's head drooped, though she didn't push his hand away. "Oh, how can you know that?"

There was a long pause before Jiminy spoke again. "I was once a human man myself."

* * *

**A/N: Part of the reason this took so long is because I had to cut a lot of useless, fluffy description. "We know she's tiny and we know this is new to her," I told myself. "Just get to the plot already!"**

**Yeah. **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review!**


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